


Grey

by Sh_Wat



Series: Colours [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, Out of Character, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 21:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20627825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sh_Wat/pseuds/Sh_Wat
Summary: Timeline of s1 finale - s2 beginning with a couple of major changes.1. Ogre took the other girl.2. Ogden Barker met a different fate.Basically it's Jim trying to navigate this issues and find a steady footing in his life again. And who would help him in this better than Oswald.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really sorry in advance for all mistakes, English is not my first language.  
Also - this story is basically melancholy talking and descriptions. Not very much action. But i really wanted to write it.

It felt as if Jim was still willing to come back to GCPD only because he owed it to other people. To his father’s honorable memory. To Bruce Wayne, brave bright kid orphaned by still unidentified criminal. Jim, himself, was just a selfish, stubborn and stupid man, and it brought his cosmic punishment, and other person payed the price for his incompetence.

Lee cut ties with him fairly quickly. She seemed to give it up on the whole city. Left the work she loved, her cozy apartment, her saddened friends. Kristen cried, Jim saw Ed holding her to calm down. It all must have seemed so pale and false to Lee now. An imitation of normal life they all pretended to be having. 

It almost felt as a relief, and Jim perfectly knew why. Ogre took her because of him, Ogre _changed_ her because of him, and it was easier – to pretend that she didn’t want Jim in her life, that Jim shouldn’t have tried harder to help her. Jim was unable to deceive even himself, and it was his worst and most useless feature.

\- I hope I will never set my foot in Gotham again, - she said, getting ready to go on her train. She looked drained, exhausted. All those phycologists gone hard on her, but in the end she was declared sane and innocent. 'Extreme case of self-defense'. She was in black still. Mourning her sister Ogre killed. Jim saw her only once – dead on the couch in her living room, her body so very thin. Lee was on her knees over Jason’s body, all cowered in blood. Jim found out later, that she tried to smash his head even after he died from her stab wounds.

Jim felt strange, almost dream-like on the station – early in the morning, full of smoke and weak winter sunlight. It was as if dissociation Lee experienced right after Ogre – Jim remembered her vacant stare, her slow speaking – stayed with him. And even months after her departure, he couldn’t get on his old track of recklessness and eager death wish.

And now he idly looked at the ceiling, absently feeling the softness of the comfortable warm bed -but then the alarm clock beeped.

Jim hurriedly sat up and swung his bare feet to the floor. He didn’t like to wake up alone in the flat, to live alone in general, but he didn’t want to burden Harvey with his constantly downed mood.

Beaten dog Jim, not very handy and not really loyal. Failed to protect a beloved one, and now hiding in the hole.

He crept out of the bedroom, barefoot, set off the coffeemaker and went to bathroom, got under a hot shower – it always woke him up faster that cold, somehow.

Soon he quickly finished dressing, took the filled cup of coffee, inhaled the invigorating aroma and stood at the window, looking out on the busy streets of his city.

In the dark of night Gotham always shone brightest - a jewel, a dazzling constellation, - but in the light of day the old stones of buildings and gray glass of business high-rises looked as heavy and stark as the real aura of this crowded, cruel city felt.

Jim hang out to faces, to names and stories – father and son Crane, madly laughing Valeska boy, homeless Ivy Pepper in oversized holey sweater, Lee’s sister - fall of them filling him with hurt and guilt, but it was better that a faceless mass that threatened to swallow him. He read a story once about a man who always tried to lose himself into the crowd to forget about his deeds. Jim felt that he tends to the opposite on the spectrum if sinners.

He knew what’s most disgusting about him – hypocrisy, and he was going to exploit it on the full force today; and he’s going to deal with it alone, as he prefers, so it’s gonna be fairly easy.

Jim swiftly finished his coffee, watching the city growing more businesslike and restless, shrouded in smog already, bathed in a murky gray light.

His cell phone buzzed. He set his coffee cup in the sink and picked up the phone, checking the messages. He knew that it was Harvey Dent, gave the signal that he’s free and waiting, as promised.

Adjusting his tie in the mirror, Jim wondered briefly, was it really useful today, an expression of distanced tiredness on his face? He was not that good of a liar, when he was down especially, when he was going to screw the principles of the law. Dent would be happy to assist - a new challenge, a new possibility to show off before sharp-toothed Gotham underworld. 

On his way to the court Jim tried not to look in people’s faces. Irrational fear of being called out, it was so schoolboy-silly, as if his friends would immediately know what he’s about to do and will be able to stop him or condemn him. Jim’s imagination always was colorful, but those loud scenes, playing in a safe fantasy court of his consciousness, were just a surrogate and he knew it. Or maybe it was even an attempt to charm a luck for today. See, fate from above, it’s already happened in my head, shame and all, now let me do what I’m about to do in peace.

It was a cold day, windy weather. Dent waited for him on the steps of the court, not seeing any point in being discreet, of course, even though Jim wasn’t restored as a police officer yet. Maybe he thought of Jim as of his citizen informant. Dent was, as usual, almost taut with barely controlled energy. Jim wondered, what would happened if he just let go.

\- Good morning. Did you find him? – Jim asked, shaking his hand.

Dent smiled almost too enthusiastic.

\- All here, - he said, raising a tight orange file. – He’s not a big fish, but had his moments.

They paused, for it was awkward to talk and walk up the steps at the same time. And there was a lot of stairs and corridors in this colossal marble building, a witness of his father triumphs .

The Odgen Barker file was - typical. Street childhood, teenage gangs - step by step to his own little group and profitable adult entertainment establishment. Not so smart or fast – and not so much of a crackshot, Jim added in his thoughts. But he can be a problem, even if Penguin (don’t call him Oswald, not even Cobblepot, never fraternize with ‘em) will kill him, because then he will became another favor waiting to be returned.

Jim closed the file with a sigh. Nothing really important and nothing really dangerous to general public in him either. Regular gangster. Who swore revenge last time Jim heard him.

\- I think we can go after him. He was happy in Falcone’s time, he may know important information about gangs connections and old man’s plans. Maybe he’s not really retired, just re-groups his people.

Dent nodded. Then stood up and looked at Jim with strange expression. His eyes were very lively, alight with perspective to untangle old crime web – but something was there, deep and dark, as if he knew Jim’s goal and was writing him up in some private list; a distant target to crush later.

\- Why this crook? – he asked, seemingly nonchalantly.

Jim expected the question – and answer came easier that he thought it should.

\- I contacted him. Used old informant. Barker works for Penguin now, but he’s not pleased, Penguin might decide to get rid of the troublemaker, and we better hurry if we want to best him in this.

They shared a handshake with a smile – little genuine thing, the same desire to show the underworld that it's not all-powerful and all-present. Dent took the file and walked Jim out of the court building, wishing him luck with the police work he’s going back to. Pointless politeness, but it sounded strangely honest – as if Dent didn’t want Jim to be harmed. Maybe he really liked him as a partner in the games against corrupted Gotham system. Jim liked him enough.

But Jim’s visits today weren’t finished. There was another game partner, waited for him in his new, dramatically darkened rooms, with the long table of expensive wood, with an ornate fireplace. He must know by now where Jim went and who talked to. Will he be offended? Or will take it as just another move in their intricate dance? The one thing Jim knew s that he’s not going to pretend that he has the need to ignore him.

Jim was slightly bothered, misbalanced by this looming meeting. He opted for message instead of a call – and got a reply before he could put his phone away. Penguin was setting the time, he wouldn’t have it any other way – alas, it was evening, winch meant he had to find something to do before, and talking to Harvey or Bruce was not what he needed before that conversation.

The day wore on. Jim decided to spent it in a public library, reading old issues of Gotham Gazette in an attempt to ease his discomfort - then, after it got closed, went to drink coffee with cognac and only then wandered off to his destination.


	2. Chapter 2

\- Follow me, - Butch said to him, oddly moving his neck, and turned around to show him the way Jim remembered quite good.

There was a shady business meeting, judging by grim people in good suits walking out of the room, who eyed Jim suspiciously or mockingly on his way to the door. Jim wasn’t bothered in the slightest. If he will have his way, he will throw them behind bars one by one.

Penguin was sitting on his chair with a high back, the same as the last time. It was almost touching – how naïve his little affectations like this were. He played the role of King of Gotham with sheer abandon. So far from beaten down man with sharp glint in the eye Jim met a year ago – and yet the same.

\- Hello, Jim, - said Penguin almost affectionately.

Butch closed the door behind him – and stayed outside, Jim gathered. Something more aristocratic than threatening was in this Penguin’s order.

Jim sat before him and nodded. Penguin almost beamed at him. Something really pleasant must be happened today in his line of work – and it made Jim more tense than he already has been. He felt very acutely, that this fragile looking man in an immaculate suit is one of the most vicious and ruthless creatures of Gotham’s mean steers. Something was… _shifted_ inside of this man, he wore on his sleeve what others kept hidden – all the vulnerabilities, all desires, all fears and all dark impulses – and he could recombine like a kaleidoscope picture, in the blink of an eye. He was mesmerizing in this. He was deadly.

\- Barker caught an eye of our famous district attorney, or so I’ve heard, - said Penguin, almost sing-song. – Should have been more pliant

\- A little too late, - Jim replied. it always interested him, to see how attentive Penguin watches his face while they’re speaking, tries to see every emotion. Jim was almost amused. - But someone was faster than you, for a change.

Penguin hummed and leaned on the table. He wasn’t angered by this turn of events, hasn’t still hinted that he’s waiting for an apology. Jim was glad, really. If the conversation would go there, he will be compelled to leave, storm off, - and his mood only started to improve.

\- For a change, - Penguin repeated. – I’m glad you decided to pay me a visit, James. Appreciate your good will.

Jim slightly smiled, hoping that it would be enough. He was trying to make amends as subtle as possible, and to his own surprise, giving Penguin his share of respect was not so unnatural. It wasn’t even still felt like a crime. On the contrary, there was this constant feeling of something akin to personal, relationship-grounded shame. It took so little – to please the Penguin. This bond he tried to build on trust, shared experience, helping each other – instead of bribing or threatening his way. Even after that day Jim took Falcone’s side.

\- I just can't understand, what's changed? - Penguin said tentatively. – Our city is as boiling as ever, and everyone is hungry and devious. Why you’ve decided to keep it… friendly?

\- Friendly? – Jim frowned. - I thought it’s a simple preemptive compromise.

\- You’re not the one to go for a compromise, - Penguin answered with a little hard smile. – Whom would you do this for?

Jim looked away for a few seconds, then suddenly broke into such a wide, free smile that he felt a shiver run down his own spine.

\- For myself. Haven’t it crossed your mind that I’m selfish first and loyal second?

\- If I’ve wanted Barker in jail, I would’ve told you just that, – Penguin said casually.

\- But you want to get rid of him, he’s not of your working circle, not really, so you don’t particularly care what would wait for him in the future.

Penguin could give Barker’s club to someone of his acquaintance; and now Jim himself exposed their deals to public – rumors, conclusions. Maybe that was what he really wanted – to break pretense, to let everyone see who Peter Gordon’s son really is. He didn’t find Wayne’s killer and he had plenty of time on his hands, would he really find him now? He was beaten and sneered at in the GCPD before, would it really matter to declare himself another dirty cop? He was not as valuable as he dreamed to become once. Maybe at least Harvey will be happy now that Jim doesn’t play it so righteous.

Penguin’s smile became something completely different – not triumph and not even acknowledgement of Jim’s capitulation, it was knowing and even… sad.

\- Jim, - he said softly. – I wish you would see things between us as I see them.

Jim amusedly raised a brow.

\- You mean, feigning joy at being your insider at GCPD? Maybe you even want to offer me a generous salary for my future efforts?

\- As if you would accept it, - Penguin said, distantly watching him, with a low dark rumble beneath the joking words.

\- Why would you hire me? – Jim asked quietly. - I couldn’t even sort out my quibbles with other officers without your help. I’m awful at presenting myself. I can even be stupid and soft-hearted enough to spare the life of a small time criminal you would order me to kill.

Jim was smiling amicably in the end of the last sentence, but he was tense, filled with anger at himself for everything up and including this conversation.

\- We all need help sometimes, - Penguin answered. – I wouldn’t ask you for the things you wouldn’t do. Can you imagine? Killers are not the only people I might need.

\- Killers are the only ones you will get, - Jim answered with sudden spite, Penguin’s face froze. – And I am a killer to, just not the best in the garrison, so don’t bother.

What was the point of all this? Why Jim came here anyway? He didn’t really wanted Baker to live, so if Penguin will have him killed in the police station right now, Jim wouldn’t suffer. He wanted to see reaction on his power stunt, he got it positive, he can go away and be empty and wandering again.

\- I see, - Penguin said slowly. – But have i told you that the conversation is over?

Jim turned around and laughed, waving his hands.

\- Will you order Butch to stop me? Teach me a knuckle lesson?

Penguin stood up too, walked to the cupboard on the right of the fireplace and came back to the table with the wine bottle and two glasses. Jim watched silently as he opened the bottle and filled the glasses. He really liked to drink it full.

Jim didn’t sat down again, and an idea to be rude to the end was slightly tempting but rang so hollow. He took the glass and raised a toast with Penguin. They stood alone near this table, warm fire cracked in the fireplace, and all the city and its challenges and trials felt not so very important.

\- Do you really want me to be angry at you? – Penguin asked, his eyes up close were captivatingly clear. – Do you really want me to teach you a lesson?

Jim grinned – he hoped it looked self-assured - and started to drink. He wasn’t a fan of wine, whatever fine sort it might be, but it did what it supposed to be doing – sweet, heavy, sharp on his tongue, thick, relaxing. He certainly could get a kick out of it.

\- I’d rather not, Os-wald, - Jim said, punctuating the syllables of his name. it’s not fraternizing if you flirting. Jim wished he didn’t know it. – Do you want to teach me a lesson?

Penguin smirked, but his eyes was traveling down Jim’s body and up again.

\- You probably think you’re impervious. Or doomed.

\- You probably think you’re the fastest of them all, - Jim downed his glass in one go. – But someone will catch up to you. And someone will break your wheel.

Penguin shacked his head and put his glass away. He wasn’t offended still, but he didn’t let Jim go either. Should he wait for a sigh or just say goodbye now? Penguin would accept it, but would Jim be satisfied with that?

Something was coiling inside of him, something pulled him closer.

\- You try to bait me, but you don’t like it, so why do you try it anyway? – Penguin asked almost plaintively. – Do you really think we need this? Push comes too fast after the pull, you know. It’s starting to get frustrating. If we gonna play this game, maybe change the tune?

Jim wanted to say something biting before his departure, but it would make his visit truly pointless. Idle game, threatening to fill him with remorse and disappointment. This man wanted something substantial, and he’s not gonna get it from Jim. But what can be the best demonstration than a personal experience? Maybe Penguin _is_ fast enough to outlive it.

\- You will come for help again and you will get it, - Penguin continued. – And it doesn’t mean that you’re my insider. You wouldn’t ever, would you? You will help me out only if your life will depend on it. It was so different when you thought I am scared and weak.

\- We all need help sometimes, - Jim remembered. – And we all fight tooth and nail for it.

Penguin didn’t smile, he looked tired.

\- It was a pleasure to talk to you, James, - he sighed. – ‘Till the next time.

Always so curious, bursting with fierce determination, he never ended their conversation so abruptly, never gave up the game. So much for changing the tune. Penguin’s words were honest and hurt, and it was like a code to end the circle running they risked to get into.

\- Pleasure? Was it really? – Jim said, coming closer. Penguin even flinched, he didn’t expect this. – I fool around, trying to have my cake and eat it too, and you call this mockery a pleasure? Get angry, get threatening, make them fire me again, turn away from me!

\- Keep your voice down! – Penguin whispered loudly, his face stern. – If you feel like throwing tantrums, go hit some bricks!

It stung, this blunt rebuttal, more painful than Jim expected. But he smiled tightly and nodded.

\- Not giving me what I want for once… that’s a good start.

\- I don’t know what you want, - Penguin said. – And we can’t have this conversation here, we’re being heard.

\- So, your place or mine? – Jim replayed so sudden he shocked even himself.

Penguin laughed, a little incredulous sound.

\- I would prefer my place, because you probably live here and those goons stuffed everywhere, - Jim said calmly as if they were making small talk. Surprise yourself to surprise other people, they say. – But it would require time and we probably change our minds anyway. So all we can do now is sent Butch away and sit down to decipher what the hell we want from each other.

He smiled painfully wide. Penguin watched him for a few seconds, then hurriedly walked out of the room. Jim wanted to hear what he would tell Butch – to see him out or to leave till the morning? – but decided to walk closer to the fire instead. He really wasn’t sure what Penguin’s decision would be preferable in the long run.

Penguin came back, stood by the door, looking at Jim expectantly.

\- Will we end this bottle or will we drink some tea to clear our heads? – Jim asked, and he seriously tried to brighten the mood, but Penguin frowned and sighed.

\- I’ve ordered my men to be downstairs. Leave the wine, Butch will clean it up and join the others.

\- I wasn’t laughing at you,- Jim wanted him to understand.

Penguin nodded and turned around to lead the way.

The room he brought Jim to was right down the corridor. It looked like a small cabinet, a place to work with papers, but maybe, there was some unnoticed door to joined bedroom. The window was behind the desk – opened but veiled with a dark window dressing. In the mirror over the cold fireplace Jim noticed a painting from the opposite wall – green scenery, thin backbone of the white wall crawling up to the ivory fortress under the black and blue sky.

\- Didn’t know you‘re interested in paintings, - Penguin said, standing next to him.

\- Don’t get your hopes too high, I won’t impress you with author’s name or something. It’s just… not a sweet pastoral to rest the eyes. It demands attention. How do you work here with that?

\- A tribute to El Greco, as far as the description told me. And I can work everywhere the need arises, - Penguin smiled, but without irony. – I’ve got used to it.

It was not a boast or false confidence, he said it so simply, with almost self-deprecating tone. Was it because of his work specifics? Jim saw it sometimes among criminals. Flares of shame and desperation – until their feelings wither and die completely. He knew it so well now. It felt like twisting one’s own arm into being someone one weren’t equipped to be.

But Jim could hardly imagine what would happened if they would swap places. He wouldn’t live long enough to mean something in Penguin’s world, and the other man wouldn’t want to play by the rules. The thin horizon they balanced on – the only place for them. Who knows, maybe they will be balanced better, if decide to support each other. Or maybe that would be a long-awaited way to tip over.

They sat down on the tiny sofa under the cold sharp painting. Jim turned to Penguin and met his eyes, so strange, intense, beautiful.

\- Anyway, about my marriage proposition… - he said and shook his own head on this awkward joke. – I mean, thank you for giving me a chance, but brace yourself.

He leaned closer and kissed Oswald – it was not even flirting, it was far deeper – but not on the lips, it would be too demanding, - on the left cheek.

Oswald gasped, his skin felt pleasantly colder that Jim’s, and his fragrance was heady and cold and tantalizing. They froze for a long moment, then Jim let him go.

There was a fleeting impulse to stand, to leave – but it only heightened his need to stay and wait for Oswald’s reply. What’s risk without temptation of running away?

Oswald laughed, quietly and softly, the softest.

\- How they say – turn the other cheek? - he asked, turning his face, slightly blushing. Jim kissed him there, and up on the bridge of his nose, higher to the arch of the brow, over the forehead, over the closed eyelid with tickling eyelashes, and finally, in the hot laughing mouth.


End file.
